CHAPTER VII.
IN WHICH BOTH JUSTICE AND THE HEAVENS FALL.
The day following the discovery of the murder of Victor Ramirez was oneof the intensest excitement in One Horse Gulch. It was not that killingwas rare in that pastoral community--foul murder had been done thereupon the bodies of various citizens of more or less respectability, andthe victim in the present instance was a stranger and a man who awakenedno personal sympathy; but the suspicion that swiftly and instantlyattached to two such important people as Mr. and Mrs. Conroy, alreadyobjects of severe criticism, was sufficient to exalt this particularcrime above all others in thrilling interest. For two days business waspractically suspended.
The discovery of the murder was made by Sal, who stumbled upon the bodyof the unfortunate Victor early the next morning during a walk onConroy's Hill, manifestly in search of the missing man, who had notreturned to the hotel that night. A few flippant souls, misunderstandingMiss Clark's interest in the stranger, asserted that he had committedsuicide to escape her attentions, but all jocular hypothesis ceased whenit became known that Gabriel and his wife had fled. Then came the reportthat Gabriel had been seen by a passing miner early in the day "shoving"the stranger along the trail, with his hand on his collar, andexchanging severe words. Then the willing testimony of Miss Clark thatshe had seen Mrs. Conroy in secret converse with Victor before themurder; then the unwilling evidence of the Chinaman who had overtakenGabriel with the letter, but who heard the sounds of quarrelling andcries for help in the bushes after his departure; but this evidence wasexcluded from the inquest, by virtue of the famous Californian law thata Pagan was of necessity a liar, and that truth only resided in thebreast of the Christian Caucasian, and was excluded from the generalpublic for its incompatibility with Gabriel's subsequent flight, and thefact that the Chinaman, being a fool, was probably mistaken in the hour.Then there was the testimony of the tunnel-men to Gabriel's appearanceon the hill that night. There was only one important proof not submittedto the public or the authorities--Mrs. Conroy's note--picked up by Sal,handed to Mrs. Markle, and given by her to Lawyer Maxwell. The knowledgeof this document was restricted to the few already known to the reader.
A dozen or more theories of the motive of the deed at different hours ofthe day occupied and disturbed the public mind. That Gabriel had comeupon a lover of his wife in the act of eloping with her, and had slainhim out of hand, was the first. That Gabriel had decoyed the man to aninterview by simulating his wife's handwriting, and then worked hisrevenge on his body, was accepted later as showing the necessarydeliberation to constitute murder. That Gabriel and his wife hadconjointly taken this method to rid themselves of a former lover whothreatened exposure, was a still later theory. Towards evening, when OneHorse Gulch had really leisure to put its heads together, it wasgenerally understood that Gabriel and Mrs. Conroy had put out of theirway a dangerous and necessarily rightful claimant to that mine whichGabriel had pretended to discover. This opinion was for some time--saytwo hours--the favourite one, agreeing as it did with the popularopinion of Gabriel's inability to discover a mine himself, and was onlymodified by another theory that Victor was not the real claimant, but adangerous witness that the Conroys had found it necessary to dispose of.And when, possibly from some unguarded expression of Lawyer Maxwell, itwas reported that Gabriel Conroy was an impostor under an assumed name,all further speculation was deemed unnecessary. The coroner's jurybrought in a verdict against "John Doe, alias Gabriel Conroy," and OneHorse Gulch added this injury of false pretence to other grievancescomplained of. One or two cases of horse-stealing and sluice-robbing inthe neighbourhood were indefinitely but strongly connected with thisdiscovery. If I am thus particular in citing these evidences of thevarious gradations of belief in the guilt of the accused, it is becausethey were peculiar to One Horse Gulch, and of course never obtained inmore civilised communities.
It is scarcely necessary to say that one person in One Horse Gulch neverwavered in her opinion of Gabriel's innocence, nor that that person wasMrs. Markle. That he was the victim of a vile conspiracy--that Mrs.Conroy was the real culprit, and had diabolically contrived to fastenthe guilt upon her husband, Mrs. Markle not only believed herself, butabsolutely contrived to make Lawyer Maxwell and Sal believe also. Morethan that, it had undoubtedly great power in restraining Sal's evidencebefore the inquest, which that impulsive and sympathetic young womanpersisted in delivering behind a black veil and in a suit of the deepestmourning that could be hastily improvised in One Horse Gulch.
"Miss Clark's evidence," said the _Silveropolis Messenger_, "althoughbroken by sobs and occasional expressions of indignation against themurderer, strongly impressed the jury as the natural eloquence of oneconnected with the tenderest ties to the unfortunate victim. It is saidthat she was an old acquaintance of Ramirez, who was visiting her in thehope of inducing her to consent to a happy termination of a life-longcourtship, when the dastard hand of the murderer changed the bridalwreath to the veil of mourning. From expressions that dropped from thewitness's lips, although restrained by natural modesty, it would not bestrange if jealousy were shown to be one of the impelling causes. It issaid that previous to his marriage the alleged Gabriel Conroy was afrequent visitor at the house of Miss Clark."
I venture to quote this extract not so much for its suggestion of astill later theory in the last sentence, as for its poetical elegance,and as an offset to the ruder record of the _One Horse Gulch Banner_,which, I grieve to say, was as follows:--
"Sal was no slouch of a witness. Rigged out in ten yards of Briggs' best black glazed muslin, and with a lot of black mosquito netting round her head, she pranced round the stand like a skittish hearse horse in fly-time. If Sal calculates to go into mourning for every man she has to sling hash to, we'd recommend her to buy up Briggs' stock and take one of Pat Hoolan's carriages for the season. There is a strong feeling among men whose heads are level, that this Minstrel Variety Performance is a bluff of the _Messenger_ to keep from the public the real motives of the murderer, which it is pretty generally believed concerns some folks a little higher-toned than Sal. We mention no names but we would like to know what the Editor of the _Messenger_ was doing in the counting-room of one of Pete Dumphy's emissaries at ten o'clock last evening. Looking up his bank account, eh? What's the size of the figures to-day? You hear us!"
At one o'clock that morning the Editor of the _Messenger_ fired at theEditor of the _Banner_ and missed him. At half-past one two men werewounded by pistol shots in a difficulty at Briggs' warehouse--cause notstated. At nine o'clock half a dozen men lounged down the main streetand ascended the upper loft of Briggs' warehouse. In ten or fifteenminutes a dozen more from different saloons in the town lounged asindifferently in the direction of Briggs', until at half-past nine theassemblage in the loft numbered fifty men. During this interval asmaller party had gathered, apparently as accidentally and indefinitelyas to purpose, on the steps of the little two-story brick Court House inwhich the prisoner was confined. At ten o'clock a horse was furiouslyridden into town, and dropped exhausted at the outskirts. A few momentslater a man hurriedly crossed the plaza toward the Court House. It wasMr. Jack Hamlin. But the Three Voices had preceded him, and from thesteps of the Court House were already uttering the popular mandate.
It was addressed to a single man. A man who, deserted by his _posse_,and abandoned by his friends, had for the last twelve hours sat besidehis charge, tireless, watchful, defiant, and resolute--Joe Hall, theSheriff of Calaveras! He had been waiting for this summons, behindbarricaded doors, with pistols in his belt, and no hope in his heart; aman of limited ideas and restricted resources, constant only to oneintent--that of dying behind those bars, in defence of that legal trust,which his office and an extra fifty votes at the election only twomonths before had put into his hands. It had perplexed him for a momentthat he heard the voices of some of these voters below him clamouringagainst him, but above their feebler pipe always
rose another mandatorysentence, "We command you to take and safely keep the body of GabrielConroy," and being a simple man the recollection of the quaintphraseology strengthened him and cleared his mind. Ah me, I fear he hadnone of the external marks of a hero; as I remember him he was small,indistinctive, and fidgety, without the repose of strength; a man who atthat extreme moment chewed tobacco and spat vigorously on the floor; whotweaked the ends of his scanty beard, paced the floor, and tried thelocks of his pistols. Presently he stopped before Gabriel and saidalmost fiercely--
"You hear that--they are coming!"
Gabriel nodded. Two hours before, when the contemplated attack of theVigilance Committee had been revealed to him, he had written a few linesto Lawyer Maxwell, which he entrusted to the sheriff. He had thenrelapsed into his usual tranquillity--serious, simple, and when he hadoccasion to speak, diffident and apologetic.
"Are you going to help me?" continued Hall.
"In course," said Gabriel, in quiet surprise, "ef _you_ say so. Butdon't ye do nowt ez would be gettin' yourself into troubil along o' me.I ain't worth it. Maybe it 'ud be jest as square ef ye handed me over tothem chaps out yer--allowin' I was a heep o' troubil to you--andreckonin' you'd about hed _your sheer_ o' the keer o' me, and kinderpassin' me round. But ef you _do_ feel obligated to take keer o' me, ezhevin' promised the jedges and jury" (it is almost impossible to conveythe gentle deprecatoriness of Gabriel's voice and accent at thisjuncture), "why," he added, "I'm with ye. I'm thar! You understand me!"
He rose slowly, and with quiet but powerfully significant deliberationplaced the chair he had been sitting on back against the wall. The toneand act satisfied the sheriff. The seventy-four gunship, Gabriel Conroy,was clearing the decks for action.
There was an ominous lull in the outcries below, and then the solitarylifting up of a single voice, the Potential Voice of the night before!The sheriff walked to a window in the hall and opened it. The besiegerand besieged measured each other with a look. Then came the Homericchaff:--
"Git out o' that, Joe Hall, and run home to your mother. She's gettingoneasy about ye!"
"The h--ll you say!" responded Hall, promptly, "and the old woman insuch a hurry she had to borry Al Barker's hat and breeches to come here!Run home, old gal, and don't parse yourself off for a man agin!"
"This ain't no bluff, Joe Hall! Why don't ye call? Yer's fifty men; thereturns are agin ye, and two precincts yet to hear from." (This was adouble thrust, at Hall's former career as a gambler, and the closenessof his late election vote.)
"All right! send 'em up by express--mark 'em C. O. D." (The previousspeaker was the expressman.)
"Blank you! Git!"
"Blank you! Come on!"
Here there was a rush at the door, the accidental discharge of a pistol,and the window was slammed down. Words ceased, deeds began.
A few hours before, Hall had removed his prisoner from the uncertaintenure and accessible position of the cells below to the open court-roomof the second floor, inaccessible by windows, and lit by a skylight inthe roof, above the reach of the crowd, whose massive doors werebarricaded by benches and desks. A smaller door at the side, easilysecured, was left open for reconnoitring. The approach to the court-roomwas by a narrow stairway, halfway down whose length Gabriel had thrustthe long court-room table as a barricade to the besiegers. The lowerouter door, secured by the sheriff after the desertion of hisunderlings, soon began to show signs of weakening under the vigorousbattery from without. From the landing the two men watched it eagerly.As it slowly yielded, the sheriff drew back toward the side door andbeckoned Gabriel to follow; but with a hasty sign Gabriel suddenlysprang forward and dropped beneath the table as the door with a crashfell inward, beaten from its hinges. There was a rush of trampling feetto the stairway, a cry of baffled rage over the impeding table, a suddenscramble up and upon it, and then, as if on its own volition, the longtable suddenly reared itself on end, and staggering a moment toppledbackward with its clinging human burden on the heads of the throngingmass below. There was a cry, a sudden stampede of the Philistines to thestreet, and Samson, rising to his feet, slowly walked to the side door,and re-entered the court-room. But at the same instant an agile besiegerwho, unnoticed, had crossed the Rubicon, darted from his concealment,and dashed by Gabriel into the room. There was a shout from the sheriff,the door was closed hastily, a shot, and the intruder fell. But the nextmoment he staggered to his knees, with outstretched hands, "Hold up! I'myer to help ye!"
It was Jack Hamlin! haggard, dusty, grimy; his gay feathers bedraggled,his tall hat battered, his spotless shirt torn open at the throat, hiseyes and cheeks burning with fever, the blood dripping from the bulletwound in his leg, but still Jack Hamlin, strong and audacious. By acommon instinct both men dropped their weapons, ran and lifted him intheir arms.
"There--shove that chair under me! that'll do," said Hamlin, coolly,"We're even now, Joe Hall; that shot wiped out old scores, even if ithas crippled me, and lost ye my valuable aid. Dry up! and listen to me,and then leave me here! there's but one way of escape. It's up there!"(he pointed to the skylight) "the rear wall hangs over the Wingdam ditchand gully. Once on the roof you can drop over with this rope, which youmust unwind from my body, for I'm d--d if I can do it myself. Can youreach the skylight?"
"There's a step-ladder from the gallery," said the sheriff, joyously,"but won't they see us, and be prepared?"
"Before they can reach the gully by going round, you'll be half a mileaway in the woods. But what in blank are you waiting for? Go! You canhold on here for ten minutes more if they attack the same point; but ifthey think of the skylight, and fetch ladders, you're gone in! Go!"
There was another rush on the staircase without; the surging of animmense wave against the heavy folding doors, the blows of pick andcrowbar, the gradual yielding of the barricade a few inches, and thesplintering of benches by a few pistol shots fired through the springingcrevices of the doors. And yet the sheriff hesitated. Suddenly Gabrielstooped down, lifted the wounded man to his shoulder as if he had beenan infant, and beckoning to the sheriff started for the gallery. But hehad not taken two steps before he staggered and lapsed heavily againstHall, who, in his turn, stopped and clutched the railing. At the samemoment the thunder of the besiegers seemed to increase; not only thedoor, but the windows rattled, the heavy chandelier fell with a crash,carrying a part of the plaster and the elaborate cornice with it, ashower of bricks fell through the skylight, and a cry, quite distinctfrom anything heard before, rose from without. There was a pause in thehall, and then the sudden rush of feet down the staircase, and all wasstill again. The three men gazed in each other's whitened faces.
"An earthquake," said the sheriff.
"So much the better," said Jack. "It gives us time--forward!"
They reached the gallery and the little step-ladder that led to a doorthat opened upon the roof, Gabriel preceding with his burden. There wasanother rush up the staircase without the court room, but this timethere was no yielding in the door; the earthquake that had shaken thefoundations and settled the walls had sealed it firmly.
Gabriel was first to step out on the roof, carrying Jack Hamlin. But ashe did so another thrill ran through the building and he dropped on hisknees to save himself from falling, while the door closed smartly behindhim. In another moment the shock had passed, and Gabriel, putting downhis burden, turned to open the door for the sheriff. But to his alarm itdid not yield to his pressure; the earthquake had sealed it as it hadthe door below, and Joe Hall was left a prisoner.
It was Gabriel's turn to hesitate and look at his companion. But Jackwas gazing into the street below. Then he looked up and said, "We mustgo on now, Gabriel,--for--for _they've got a ladder_!"
Gabriel rose again to his feet and lifted the wounded man. The curve ofthe domed roof was slight; in the centre, on a rough cupola or base, thefigure of Justice, fifteen feet high, rudely carved in wood, toweredabove them with drawn sword and dangling scales. Gabriel reached thecupola and crouched beh
ind it, as a shout rose from the street belowthat told he was discovered. A few shots were fired, one bullet imbeddeditself in the naked blade of the Goddess, and another with cruel irony,shattered the equanimity of her balance. "Unwind the cord from me," saidHamlin. Gabriel did so. "Fasten one end to the chimney or the statue."But the chimney was levelled by the earthquake, and even the statue wastrembling on its pedestal. Gabriel secured the rope to an iron girder ofthe skylight, and crawling on the roof dropped it cautiously over thegable. But it was several feet too short--too far for a cripple to drop!Gabriel crawled back to Hamlin. "You must go first," he said, quietly,"I will hold the rope over the gable. You can trust me."
Without waiting for Hamlin's reply he fastened the rope under his armsand half-lifted, half-dragged him to the gable. Then pressing his handsilently, he laid himself down and lowered the wounded man safely to theground. He had recovered the rope again, and crawling to the cupola, wasabout to fasten the line to the iron girder when something slowly roseabove the level of the roof beyond him. The uprights of a ladder!
The Three Voices had got tired of waiting a reply to theiroft-reiterated question, and had mounted the ladder by way of forcing ananswer at the muzzles of their revolvers. They reached the level of theroof, one after another, and again propounded their inquiry. And then asit seemed to their awe-stricken fancy, the only figure there--the statueof Justice--awoke to their appeal. Awoke! leaned towards them; advancedits awful sword and shook its broken balance, and then toppling forwardwith one mighty impulse, came down upon them, swept them from theladder, and silenced the Voices for ever! And from behind its pedestalGabriel arose, panting, pale, but triumphant.